8. Luke

8

LUKE

M y worst nightmare had become reality.

I was trapped on a boat with Brett Mercer. And, evidently, his friend.

They both stared at me, mouths agape. Brett seemed furious. Scratch that—he seemed livid.

For a moment, the only sounds that filled the air were lapping waves and water rushing by.

Then, to my surprise, Brett’s friend giggled.

Once.

Then, continuously.

Like a kid at recess. A bona fide giggle fit.

Brett scowled at her then turned to glare at me.

Our eyes met. I wished I could see past Brett’s steely exterior and get a small glimpse into his internal world. Maybe then I could figure out why he hated me so much.

Or at least I could figure out why he was so permanently embedded in my psyche.

“Oh look, the muscle has arrived!” his friend exclaimed. “Now it’s a party. Grab a drink big guy, we’ve got enough awkward tension to sink this boat.”

“Well,” Brett said, clearing the air and trying to talk over his friend’s snickers, “this is going to be a nightmare.”

Great , I thought. We’re off to a fantastic start.

When I’d realized I was trapped with him, I’d secretly hoped that Brett and I might get along for once.

That clearly wasn’t going to happen.

“I’m Claire,” his friend chuckled. “I’d stand up, but this swimsuit is very revealing.”

“Wrong tree, Claire,” Brett scoffed. “Why are you here?”

There was no way I was going to explain myself to this asshole. What a ridiculous question. I had every right to be on that boat. Leonard had invited me.

“I think you’re following me,” he added.

Claire cackled. “I think Leonard is a sneaky son of a bitch!”

I stood my ground. “I’m not here to answer questions, Brett. I don’t want to provide more fodder for your esteemed podcast.”

Claire laughed again.

I could tell she was a hoot. It was odd to me that someone hilarious like her would choose such a boring, hateful, dud of a friend like Brett.

Brett scowled. “I understand you’re not here to answer questions, just to relax. Is it hard transitioning from a legend to just another retired guy with too much time on his hands?”

What an ass.

“That sounds like another question to me,” I rebuffed. “Still making a career out of tearing down people who’ve actually achieved something, huh?”

Brett sipped his drink, glaring at me with a furious stare. “Funny how you’re always complaining about the media when I’m the only one keeping you relevant these days.”

Fuck.

Fuck this guy.

That one got me. He knew exactly how to sharpen his words and point them directly at me like a dagger.

I wanted to hurt him right back. I needed to let him know that his career efforts paled in comparison to the things I had achieved.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Brett,” I smirked, “boats like this aren’t exactly in the budget of a no-name podcaster.”

“Right?” Claire loudly agreed between sips of her cocktail. “Brett, this yacht is like a five-star resort, and your podcast setup looks like it was assembled by a toddler with a glue stick!”

“Hey!” Brett shouted, lifting his drink into the air.

Claire laughed maniacally, punctuated by the sounds of seagulls squawking around us.

Brett seemed furious at his friend, but he returned his focus to me and pursed his lips together in a feigned pout. “Big guy like you and all you’ve got left is a bruised ego and a pile of money. Must be rough.”

Before I could tee up a brutal response, Leonard appeared and cleared his throat. “Ah, I see the stars have aligned on deck!”

Leonard had changed outfits and was donning a captain’s hat and a sequined robe.

At least he’s consistent in his lunacy , I thought.

“I wouldn’t say they’ve aligned,” Brett scoffed, climbing out of the hot tub. “I need another drink.”

As I watched him get out, I realized that it was my first time seeing Brett with his shirt off. Which was odd, considering that we both lived smack-dab on the beach.

I was completely and totally prepared to judge him. To mentally rip him apart and confirm for myself that I did, in fact, hate him. In the back of my mind, I secretly hoped he’d be pudgy and out of shape under those pretentious shirts he wore. Instead, I was frustrated—and slightly perplexed—to realize that he was fit.

As in, pro athlete, clean diet, meticulous workout program fit.

I hadn’t noticed it before, but Brett Mercer was obviously someone who kept in shape.

His body looked like it was the result of countless hours in the gym, sculpted and refined to near perfection. His broad shoulders tapered down to a lean, tight waist and each defined muscle in his biceps and chest seemed to ripple under his skin with every movement. His abs appeared to be a hard, chiseled six-pack, the kind that looked like they’d been carved out of marble. Years of obvious dedication had given him a physique that was equal parts power and pleasure.

Claire cleared her throat, shaking me from my thoughts. “Luke?”

I quickly realized that I had been standing silently for at least a few seconds, staring at Brett’s shirtless body as he climbed out of the hot tub.

Leonard stared at me, confused. “I said do you want a drink, my boy? There’s a full bar!”

I nodded furiously, trying to be smooth. “Sure, that sounds hot to me.”

Claire shot me an inquisitive look. “ Hot ?”

“I mean… fit!” I explained.

Damnit.

“As in, good ,” I attempted again. “That sounds good to me.”

The three of them stared at me in absolute silence. It was as if the birds and ocean had disappeared and the only thing that remained was the painfully obvious fact that I had been eyeballing Brett.

Imagining him in different scenarios.

I wanted to defend myself. I wanted to proclaim my innocence and tell them that it wasn’t my fault—I’d been single for years.

No dates. No men.

Nothing.

I couldn’t be blamed for looking at a gorgeous man in a hot tub.

An infuriatingly gorgeous man.

Leonard laughed and pointed at a towel rack next to me. “Luke, if you’re going to undress Brett with your eyes, you might as well offer him a towel.”

Leonard’s comment prompted Claire to explode into laughter like a volcano that had finally been given permission to erupt.

“I think Mr. Mercer is guilty of the same thing!” she exclaimed, winking at Brett. “That’s you , Brett. I’m talking about you.”

Brett rolled his eyes and flipped her off. “I regret bringing you.”

Wait. Has Brett been venting about me to his friend?

Immediately, I needed to know, so I made a mental note that I’d talk to her later—preferably after a few more drinks—to see what additional insights into the real Brett she might let slip.

For whatever reason, I was on a mission.

“Unlimited drinks inside,” Leonard offered, trying to slice through the awkwardness.

Although the man existed in a world of his own, he was evidently very intuitive.

Claire gestured off in the distance as she maneuvered her way delicately out of the slippery hot tub. “I’m a little concerned about those dark clouds over there.”

Leonard scoffed. “The forecast for the day was splendid. Don’t worry! Besides, I told you, the boat has magic .”

As I turned to look out over the water, my eyes focused on the menacing clouds as well.

Thirty minutes later, we were all inside.

Brett and Claire were sipping complicated cocktails they’d created from fancy liquors in Leonard’s bar.

I was drinking an aged scotch, as was Leonard.

I had spent the past twenty minutes trying not to think about Brett’s toned body, so instead I had kept my eyes on the incoming clouds as they approached.

“Those clouds don’t look good,” I cautioned, pointing Leonard’s attention toward them. “I think we should turn around and head back.”

“Nonsense!” Leonard said. “It’s a passing shower. We’ll go out on the deck and take in some sunshine just as soon as it passes.”

I shook my head. “They’re too dark. Let’s head back.”

Leonard hesitated but eventually agreed. He disappeared quickly, going to turn us around.

Claire and Brett talked as I moved myself onto the upper deck, hoping to get a better view. And to relax for a second. The tension in the room was suffocating, and not just because of the incoming storm that Leonard didn’t seem worried about.

But I was worried. Rain had already started to fall, and winds had picked up noticeably since we were all last on the deck.

My mind went back to Brett.

It was obvious I’d been eyeing him. Any idiot could see that.

I had no idea what my next play was. Months of hating Brett from a distance while he humiliated me daily on his podcast, and now I was next to him, unable to formulate a simple sentence.

I didn’t know what had taken control of me.

Claire had noticed. Leonard had noticed.

I wondered if Brett had noticed.

There was obviously some sort of love/hate relationship going on between the two of us. But I needed to absolve myself of the notion that someone like Brett could love someone like me.

It wasn’t within the realm of possibility. He had his world, and I had mine. There were clear lines drawn on the field, and we both needed to play our roles.

Brett’s job was to provide commentary. Snarky, condescending, over-the-top commentary.

The kind of nonsense that had cost me a sponsorship.

I looked around at Leonard’s extravagant yacht and realized that I could have purchased several boats just like this with the money I lost from Monarch Watches.

It wasn’t lost on me that the weather outside seemed to match the storm brewing inside me.

But it wasn’t just about the money. Something else about Brett had captivated my thoughts, my dreams, my motivations.

Here I was, on a boat with him.

It was as if the universe was trying to tell me something. Trying to manifest something that I wanted to fight against.

Looking up at the raging sky, I wanted to tell the universe to fuck off.

I wasn’t interested in the universe’s theatrics or plans for my future. I was in control of my own destiny, and I wasn’t going to let Brett Mercer throw me off track. I’d simply spend the summer relaxing, then I’d get back to work building a brand that I could bank on.

Evidently, based on the oversize rental house I’d been mistakenly placed in, I needed a new agent. And maybe a new public relations office. Hell, I needed a complete and total rebranding.

And I needed to do it without Brett. Or rather, in spite of him. I wanted to build myself back up, land a new sponsorship, then throw it in Brett’s face.

That’d show him.

That would wipe the smug look right off his smarmy face. I hated the way he walked around the beach house as if he owned it, as if the entire neighborhood belonged to him. Building a legacy off of tearing mine down. In many ways, I wanted to get back at him. Make him suffer for the pain he’d caused me.

Standing there with the rain hitting my face, I realized I needed to devise a plan.

A counterattack.

I was going to get back at Brett for what he’d done. I just wasn’t quite sure how yet.

Slowly but surely, I noticed the boat turning around to take us back to the dock.

Apparently, Leonard had taken my advice and was ready to get back to safety.

I was ready to get the hell off this boat and get back to the comfort of my beach house, to take a walk with the sand between my toes and get Brett off my mind.

But I knew we weren’t in the clear. The winds were too strong, and the waters had grown choppy. The storm was only going to intensify. We needed to hurry.

Fifteen minutes later, my prediction came true.

Leonard’s boat had started slamming against the swelling waves, and even Brett looked panicked.

“Do you think it’s bad?” he asked, moving over to sit next to Claire for comfort.

Claire nodded. “It’s worse than bad.”

“Claire!” Brett exclaimed, rising to his feet. “That’s not helpful right now. We need to calm down. It can’t be that bad. I’ll go take a look on deck.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“No?” Brett asked, stopping dead in his tracks. “I’m sorry, but I don’t work for you. I’m not your maid or your chef. You can’t boss me?—”

Before he could finish, the boat swayed violently and Brett lost his footing, scrambling to catch himself on the wooden bar.

I pointed at his chair. “Sit down.”

Brett scoffed incredulously. “I’m not a child!”

He glanced nervously at the door to the upper deck. His voice was shrill. “I’m going to check it out.”

“Brett!” Claire protested, trying to stand in front of him to block him, but losing her footing quickly and sitting down.

But Brett brushed her hand off. “I don’t take orders from Luke Dalton!”

Claire glared at him. “So, you’re going to put your life in danger just to prove a point?”

Brett tried to laugh it off, unconvincingly. “It’s not that bad. It’s just a little shower.”

He rose to his feet again, braced himself on the bar, then walked out the door.

For some reason, every fiber of my being wanted to go after him. I wanted to chase him down, put my hands on his shoulders, and shake him back into reality.

It was stupid to go on deck during a storm.

Madness .

But I wasn’t going to follow him around, trying to ensure his safety when he had done nothing but tear me down. For months.

Nope, not going to happen , I thought as I sat next to Claire.

She looked terrified from the sounds of the howling winds.

“So…” I said, trying to make small talk and pretend I wasn’t desperate to run after Brett, “how long have you lived in California?”

Claire turned and offered nothing but a blank stare.

Suddenly, I was way more nervous about my conversation with her than I was about the storm.

Claire seemed like the type of woman who could see right past anyone’s bullshit. Especially mine.

“One,” she said, “I’m way too horrified to make small talk right now, and two, I’ve lived here all my life.”

I had no clue how to respond to that. Her cheerful demeanor had suddenly disappeared in the face of the oncoming storm.

I couldn’t blame her. We were on a boat with waves crashing violently around us. It wasn’t a fun place to be.

I knew I should say something calming. Something to ease the tension of the moment and help us both relax while the storm passed over.

“Does Brett ever talk about me?” I asked.

Wow. Stupid.

“What?” she asked.

Not the right time, Luke , I scolded myself.

“I mean…,” I continued, but I had no idea how to recover.

Claire rolled her eyes. “Well, I can’t hear much over the thunder, but I’m pretty sure he’s shouting your name between lightning strikes!”

Ouch. That stung.

Claire could see through me as clear as day. She knew that I had become obsessed with her best friend.

Before I could reply, we both heard a loud thud from the deck.

Claire screamed, shocking me from my ridiculous thoughts about Brett.

I scrambled to my feet and rushed through the door.

There, several feet away from me and struggling to keep his footing on the wooden deck, was Brett.

The sky had turned completely dark, rain was pouring, and the boat was swaying much more violently than it had before. Thick, black clouds roiled over our heads. Wind whipped across the unrelenting water, stirring gentle waves into furious swells that crashed against the hull with angry intensity.

Each drop of rain stung my face as it landed, like giant marbles pounding me. Lightning forked through the sky, briefly illuminating the chaos as I began to make my way toward Brett.

I couldn’t stand by and watch him get injured—or worse.

Gripping the railing, my knuckles turned white as I fought to maintain my balance. Behind me, I could hear Claire screaming through the doorway.

I turned and shouted loud enough that she could hear me over the wailing wind. “Close the door, it’s not safe!”

But she ignored my warning. She obviously couldn’t tear her eyes away from the terrifying scene even for a moment. Especially since her best friend’s safety—in fact, his life —was in jeopardy.

But not on my watch.

The boat rocked violently, tilting at precarious angles and threatening to throw either of us overboard at any moment.

Despite my fear—my gut-wrenching, mind-numbing fear—I pushed forward.

It was as if every muscle in my body wanted me to turn back; to return to a position of relative safety amidst the storm. It was only human nature to want to survive.

But the horrified look on Brett’s face forced me toward him.

As I neared him, the storm raged on. Leonard’s yacht felt like a tiny vessel lost in the chaos of an angry sea.

Brett let go of the railing and slowly walked toward me, the wind raging and pushing him back as he attempted to move.

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind knocked Brett off balance. I leapt forward and grabbed his shoulders before wrapping my arms around him and throwing us both to the deck for temporary safety.

We hit the deck with a thud.

Slowly, I began to inch us back toward the main door which was still open with Claire screaming inside. Leonard had joined her and was waving us over with ferocity.

They were both yelling at us, but I couldn’t make out a single word they said.

After a few menacing gusts, the wind slowed to a speed that allowed me and Brett to regain our footing and rush back inside.

Soaked and physically exhausted, we both fell to the floor, Brett still in my arms. I held him there and looked deep into his eyes, hoping he wasn’t injured.

He opened his mouth to speak, and I found myself wincing in anticipation.

Was it going to be another snarky comment? Another criticism of my efforts?

Should I have perhaps brought a raincoat to make his journey inside more comfortable?

Brett’s eyes widened as he gazed up at me, both of us completely drenched.

“Thank you,” he said. “And, I’m sorry.”

Leonard chuckled. “What ever for, my boy? This storm isn’t your fault!”

For a moment, only the sounds of waves and thunder filled the room as Brett kept his eyes on mine.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, almost whimpering. “For everything.”